41
Mag.
How could you have such a crazy idea. The letters of a woman
whom you professed to love - - it’s easy to see that you are
no gentleman.
Gilb.
It’s rich, upon my word.
Didn't you do the same thing?
Mag.
I am a woman.
Gilb.
You Con behind that, do you?
Mag.
It is true. I have nothing to repversch you with. We are
worthy of each other. Yes Clement is right. We are worse
than the women in the living Victures at Ponacher. Our most
sacred feelings, our θriefs, we lay everything bare. Laugh.
Laugh. My sehavier sickens me. We belong together, you and I
Clement will do right to drive me out.
(Suddenly)
Come Amandus.
Gilb.
What do you mean,
Mag.
I accept your proposition.
Gilb.
What proposition.